Opposites Attract
by SensuallyPassionate
Summary: Tommy understands now why we love people that hurt us and hurt people that love us. For Boris :) (One-Shot/Possible story)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Don't shoot me Boris. I know this isn't Chuckie and Angelica but I could not help myself and decided to dedicate a Tommy and Kimi to you. Thanks for being patient kitten. I hope you love it. I actually enjoyed this myself.**

**To the rest of my kittens, you know you all are AMAZING and I hope you enjoy. This is a one-shot but I am thinking of expanding it into a story. Not sure so I want to know what you all think. I have had a few PM's that want a Tommy background story since all my stories have him as a misogynistic whore. Anyhoo, see you all soon! And as always, thank you for enjoying my twisted, dark fantasies. -SP**

**Chapter theme song: 'Opposites Attract' by: Kendrick Lamar**

**Tommy**

"It's rolling."

She blushed, turning bashful as I dimmed down the lights into a flickering glow amongst the smooth candlelight. I glanced down at her beauty, marveling at her elegance and grace juxtaposed against her sinful nudity. She noticed me staring, snatching the silk sheets of the bed to shield her small yet pert breasts. "Tommy, don't stare."

"Why not?" my voice was low, lustful even. I removed my t-shirt and began snaking my hands around the buckle holding up my pants. She turned away again. "You are gorgeous, Kimi."

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm not another one of your conquests, Tommy Pickles. I don't need you to flatter me or butter me up to get my legs open okay?"

I let out a low sigh, smiling lightly. Kimi would never be just another conquest for me; she was always, will always be more than that to me. She is not only my friend, but secretly the woman I have fallen madly in love with over the years. Since we were just kids, too vain to begin to grasp what the word "love" is, I have always had feelings for Kimi Finster. I had a small crush on her that dwindled off and on throughout our middle-school years that morphed into love and infatuation entering near adulthood. Now, we were in college, on separate paths with hers eventually leading to a stage in Manhattan as I was destined to root myself in Hollywood after graduation. Our time together was limited, days numbered that neither one of us wanted to acknowledge. I was entering my last year at Flint and she was getting callbacks for auditions across the country with hopes of landing at least one of them.

I stepped towards her and allowed myself to tilt her chin up to face me; her eyes glossy from emotions that were brimmed from the alcohol we had shared at the club. She was trying to get over Adam, her now ex-boyfriend of three years, and I was growing tired of the faceless women. Only Chuckie knew why I bedded women without even daring to ask their first names. My mother had an affair a few years back that my father doesn't know about. I caught her one morning when my father was out of town for some entrepreneur workshop in Chicago in the kitchen with a male 'friend' of hers. Dil was at summer school and I was headed to the java lava for an early shift I switched with Chuckie. I never brought it up to anyone, not even my mother, since the incident had happened; but it ignited something inside of me. I felt betrayed, lonely, and deceived by not just my mother but all women in general.

My parents were the 'ideal' couple to my friends. Uncle Drew cheated on Aunt Charlotte, Kira was secretly cheating on Chaz for a few months until her conscious caught up with her, and Betty had a record of being domestically abusive towards her family. I was the one that had the 'perfect' family that had it all together. My parents were the inspiration to Kira stopping her soon-to-be affair with a doctor she met online to go to couples therapy, Betty seeking anger management classes to rebuild her marriage and her relationship with Lil, and even Uncle Drew beginning to try to build some sort of friendship with Aunt Charlotte. No one knew my mother stepped out on my father and if they did, the only thread holding the toxic fabric of lies centered on all four families would loosen and unveil a Greek tragedy. I was in no mood to be the antihero.

I pressed my lips against hers; running my hands through her long, raven hair to the core of her spine. I traced the outline of the small tattoo of a butterfly perched against the branch of a cherry blossom tree on her lower back; pushing her against the nest of pillows scattered with the muffled cries of red rose petals. Unlike all the other times I been in this room, I never once lit a candle, bought a single rose, let alone bought expensive silk sheets from the fancy department store up north. No, not one woman I have slept with in the five years I have made a living of manipulating the hearts and minds of young women has been worth half this much. Kimi was different.

"You were never a conquest."

"What makes me any more different than the woman you were with last night, Tommy Pickles?"

_Everything._

I chose not to answer in words. Kimi was more of a 'show me' type of woman that I could respect since actions spoke a hell of a lot louder than some generic hallmark crap. I kissed her again, this time fully pushing down my jeans to land on the side of my bed. I gently removed the silk sheet that separated us to place small, featherlike kisses against her supple skin. I could tell she had to mentally tell herself to breathe. I watched her close her eyes, purple and black nail polish getting lost in my hair with her grip tightening. Kimi was a virgin and part of me did not want to defile her of her chastity but the other side of me knew that no man alive could love Kimi Finster the way I love her…how I have always loved her.

At some point I guess she felt the same and caught onto my feelings some years ago. We tried the flirtatious, beating-around-the-bush dating thing but out of the risk of losing not only my friendship to my best friend, I did not want to risk marring the foundation we had established. If nothing more, Kimi was always and forever going to be one of my closest friends. I had to keep telling myself that this was something we both wanted; that her breakup with Adam and my questionable psyche was something we both needed to escape from for the evening. If we were to wake up in the morning and regret any of this…anything at all…we could blame it on the alcohol. It was a cliché and overly used but I knew she was feeling the effects of a half bottle of vodka and shots of tequila. Me on the other hand, I had a higher tolerance but she was never going to know that.

I glanced at the red light of my camcorder mounted against the stand at the front of the room. Kimi insisted we record this night against, ironically, my better judgment but I agreed. Unbeknownst to be, it turned me on. I wanted to not only show her, but myself how much she meant to me and even if I was never allowed into her heart again, at least I would know I gave her my all.

"Tommy." She whispered, planting small kisses on my ear. "Why did we never date?"

I constantly asked myself that question all the time. Kimi Finster was the only woman alive that made my heart swell. I have been with dozens of women, almost a hundred actually, and I am not even twenty-one yet. I have had women pleasure me without anything in return in tenfold to that number but Kimi was the only one that made me weak. It was not that I did not have anything in common with some of the women. On the contrary, a few of them I could actually see myself in a long-term relationship with if I had given it a fair shot. But there was something about Kimi that made me feel whole.

I grew up with my folks always talking about soul mates and finding your other half that makes you feel complete. Even Saint Augustine viewed the soul as being an infinite thing that was placed on earth to search for its missing half that would eventually give him meaning. Being with Kimi made me feel as if all that was true; I could think a thought and it would come right out of her mouth, I could be myself without any tricks or tales to create some optical illusion I'm not, I could talk to her about anything and everything until we were blue in the face, I could even see myself risking my life for hers and she doing the same if it came down to it. Kimi was and is my other half my soul has longed for….

But I dare not tell her. I am afraid to hurt her…lose her. I can see myself clamming up once entering the relationship; only to lay hands on her, cheat on her, and abuse her love and trust for me in fear of turning out to be another statistic. I grew up surrounded by painful love that I instantly rejected the idea of even wanting it at all. I was terrified of hurting her, breaking her heart and ruining the one soul I knew was truly pure and genuine. I have broken hearts before, feeling a ping of guilt every now and then but eventually the feeling ebbs. If I were to even make the woman that lay before me shed a single tear, my world would shatter and I would be even less of a man that I stand before her. So I choose to keep my feelings unknown, masked by raw, lustful intentions in the waves of adulterated pleasure. It's better this way.

"I love you, Kimi Finster."

"Don't say things you don't mean, Tommy Pickles." Another moan. "I'm already in your bed. No need for the extra."

I smirk, traveling to dance my lips across her navel. She catches her breath in her throat. If only she knew…

That is exactly why…

_She says she loves me…so she clings to me even though I want to be left alone_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So majority vote, I will continue this as a story. I never thought about Kimi and Tommy until recently. This shall be interesting. Anyhoo, I must warn that this story will be quite suggestive. I am a...push the boundary type of writer that enjoys sin to put things lightly. I take the fantasies I had as a child and put them into words. (Yes, I was that weird kid that thought of everything in a twisted way. Sue me) So, if sexually suggestive themes, underage drinking, and language is not your thing, the back button is clickable. I get tired of reading PM's from pissed off teenagers. -_- I tried to write a 'normal' story but it was so ironic because people actually wanted to read what I am known for and not the typical run of the mill high school love story. So expect drama, sex, language, sex, mental issues, sex, sex, and a lot more of that jazz. However, this is rated 'T' so I will only hint since I am taking a break from the 'M' section. Anyhoo, love you kittens (Yes, Boris, you are a kitten) and you all make me smile so brightly. I shall update my other fanfictions as well so expect PLENTY of updates.**

**Also, my very own published book will be out in...*drum roll* late December! I shall give you all more concrete details when my editor and manager give me the green light. So exciting! And as usual, thank you for enjoying my twisted, dark fantasies. This wouldn't be a SensuallyPassionate original if there was none of that no would there. -SP**

**Chapter theme song: 'Dance Without You' by: Skylar Grey**

I grinded my hips against his pelvis, wrapping my arms around his neck as he thrust towards me. He spun me around, gripping my hair as a slender hand snaked around my waist. He pulled me close, so close I could feel him harden. I ran my hands across the back of his neck, winding my hips, biting my lips, breaking into a Chinese split only to have him lift me back to my feet with one hand. A small lift, another switch in position, this time our lips practically touching again with every breath taken. I watched him pull back, gliding me with him to pull me atop of his chiseled frame. Reaching up, I let out a silent cry, pulling down to massage his firm chest as he moved upwards. I did another split, this time against his loins. A low growl, then a soft moan escaped our lips until he moved to transition himself on top. That's when things got interesting.

"Stop the music."

Silence, the heavy pants from my dance partner, Jeremy intermingled with mine as we rose to our feet. Our dance instructor, Madam Rogue, bit onto her thing pencil, gnawing lightly. She slid down her small reading glasses to scan over a few papers on her clipboard before her assistant, Sophie, whispered something into her ear. A small twitch in the right corner of her mouth, nose turned up in disgust before she swatted the blonde away.

"Take five." She barked, snapping at both Jeremy and I. "Except you two, come here."

I grabbed my towel resting on the edge of the stage, slipping on my socks before meeting her at her throne. Madam Rouge insisted she get a custom made chair to complete her…"vision" for what art truly embodied. As much as I thought she was full of herself and the most conceited person I have ever met, Madam Rogue was North America's leading dance instructor for a reason. She trained Alexandria Blachovich, a Russian-American ballet superstar, and was the personal dance instructor for Eileen Tosh, one of the top-paid contemporary dancers in the world. Madam Rogue is a middle-aged, Czech woman with a thick accent, a thin veil of patience, and an even less tolerance for anything less than perfection. She brought her Western discipline with the Eastern culture and made her dance company, Moulin Rouge, one of the most sought out dance companies throughout the nation. I was chosen to be a temporary apprentice for her company until the end of the season. Somewhere along the lines, Madam Rogue saw one of my mall performances and saw potential.

"Madam Rogue."

"Finster, Kimi." I nodded. "You are very athletic, acrobatic, and exude…sex appeal that would allude to younger and more progressive audiences."

"Thank you, Madam, I…"

"Was not finished." She interrupted. She pierced her lips, taking in a sharp breath. "As much raw talent as you do have, Kimi, raw talent is much like an unrefined diamond…pointless."

I grew silent, lowering my head. "I apologize."

"You need structure, discipline, a more stern technique, and less…provocative dance methods."

"With all due respect, Madam, Kimi was just doing the routine I showed her." Jeremy came to my aid, flashing a small smile. He was another apprentice one of Madam Rouge's associates, Colleen, had swooped up during one of their rare open auditions. I silent glare, a sharp inhale.

"Last name?"

"Collins, ma'am."

"Who recruited you?"

"Lena, Madam."

Madam Rogue flipped through her clipboard before tossing it behind her. She gave a small, vindictive smile. "Who created this routine?"

"I did…"

"It shows." She removed her reading classes, folding them quietly before placing them in her designer covering in her handbag. She called out to Sophie, signaling for her to bring her some lemon tea with a zest of orange and basil. She remained silent for a short while, turning to take her place at her cushioned, custom chair. Dottily, Sophie came with the finest set of china she could find and a small glass tray with an assortment of small cookies and cakes with Madam Rogue's tea. With another flick of the wrist, Sophie was dismissed. "Your service here is no longer needed, Jeremy Collins."

"Madam…" he tried to speak.

"You may collect your things and your stipend on your way out." She sipped her tea. "I will speak with Lena on her taste in applicants."

Jeremy grew mute, glancing at me wearily before bushing past me; mumbling something under his breath. I was so caught up in all that had happened that I forgot to breathe myself. I looked at Madam Rogue, eyes lowered, biting my bottom lip as I winced. I was just waiting for her to kick me out along with him. "Finster!"

Her sharp voice pierced my skull. "Madam."

"As for you, I see what I can mold you into if you decide to take this apprenticeship seriously."

"I do."

"Then show me."

"Madam Rouge, I promise I won't let you down."

She sighed, nibbling into a lemon bar. "I was not finished, child." She shook her head. "This is not Flashdance. Keep to my techniques and training and you will go far. Dismissed."

I saw that familiar bed of purple hair in the very back row of the auditorium. I had to keep myself from smiling widely, my heart feeling as if it would jump out of my chest. Since that night, things have been awkward and it was mainly my fault. I have not spoken to Tommy in two weeks and it was partially my busy dance schedule, Madam Rouge wanting eight hour practices every day for the next two months and it finally having its toll on my body. I was getting blisters, muscle spasms, and migraines on the daily basis. I had no time for my own family, let alone Tommy Pickles. But the other reason to me avoiding him was the embarrassment I felt from having him see me so…vulnerable.

Tommy is a notorious womanizer and has no shame in admitting his dishonorable ways. He makes it a hobby to distort the minds and bodies of women, playing with their hearts before conquering their minds into ultimately stroking their needy temples. I was a virgin…emphasis on the virgin. Tommy was my first and as much as I told myself that I made the biggest mistake of my life by allowing him the divine honor of claiming the ownership of my purity, I knew Tommy was harmless…at least towards me. We were drunk, I was actually, and I was feeling the effects of alcohol and broken-heart syndrome simultaneously. Tommy had been gentleman enough to come get me from a club I frequent after I had a little too much to drink. From what he tells me, I was ready to start a fight with the bouncer and the women at the table that had slept with my ex. I had called Lillian to come join me for body shots with a few Middle-Eastern escorts, who then called Chuckie to come get me before I was date raped, who called Tommy to go in his place since he was on the expressway headed to Ohio to see Angelica.

It was thunder storming that night from what I can remember and it was a flood advisory that warned against driving in the intense rainfall. That's when Tommy rented a room at a hotel where he knew management exceedingly well and forced me to try and sleep my drunken silliness off before morning. I don't know how a camcorder came into play, but all I remember before I blacked out was feeling so hot and bothered that the fabric of my jeans and t-shirt was beginning to do things to me I only thought a man could do. Tommy tells me I initiated the kiss but if I know Tommy the way I think I know him, I know he did not fight it either. Tommy and I have had fluctuating feelings for each other since middle-school. One minute he liked me but I was head over heels in love with another boy and the next I would like him but he was chasing skirts at a fraternity party. Our little game of cat and mouse just became too exhausting.

I packed my jeans, jacket, and t-shirt in my dance bag before pulling out my French braid. I ran a single hand through my wavy tendrils and allowed them to frame my picturesque face. A thin layer of peach gloss and my gym shoes, I bid Madam Rouge farewell for the evening and headed towards the parking lot. Tommy didn't say anything as I approached him slouched in him seat, texting some female more than likely. He hid is boredom underneath his Wayfarer shades and ear buds. I walked right past him to open the back door.

"Well, hello to you too, Kimi." He called out to me, laughing lightly. I heard him scurry to his feet to chase after me. I rolled my eyes, fighting back another smile.

"How did you know I would be here?"

"You're always here." He smiled, grabbing my hand. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Been busy." I brushed him off, turning to walk towards the bus stop. I sat on the bench, digging through the front pocket of my bag to grab my music player. I felt him sit next to me.

"That's why I came here, to hopefully see you."

"You didn't have to, Tommy."

"I wanted to." He retorted, grabbing my bag from off the dirty concrete sidewalk to head towards his car. "I'm parked over here."

I sat at the bus stop for a few moments hoping he would return with my bag and a warm smile, telling me it was all a joke and he had some girl he was late for. But after he honked his horn loudly a few times, beginning to blare the sounds of Daft Punk's Get Lucky, I knew he was serious. I let out a low sigh. How appropriate.

I entered the passenger side of his 2001 Camaro, inhaling the aroma of stale sex, French fries, and cherry air freshener. He put the car in drive and sped off towards the freeway. "You've been avoiding me, Kimi Finster."

I shook myself out of my trance, enjoying the music before I looked at him questioningly. "I have been busy."

"Too busy to answer a text message."

"My phone was off for a few days." I lied. He shook his lead lightly, keeping his eyes on the road. He didn't say anything after a while so I went back to listening to the radio. There was an eerie feeling I had that I could not shake. I glanced his way, looking out the corner of my eyes to see him looking more stern than usual. I let out a low sigh. "Thanks for coming to get me. You saved me an hour long bus ride."

He didn't say anything this time, just nodding before making a violent right turn into a merging lane. It was quiet again. I decided to cut the tension short by looking out the window and watching the motions go by. I could smell the faintness of fresh rain approaching and I was even more grateful that Tommy had surprised me at my studio. I hated walking in the rain, especially in sheer stockings and a form fitting leotard. I glanced back over at him, he still looking unusually stoic. I decided not to bite this time.

"You hungry?" he asked after some time. I shot him a look.

"No, I'm okay."

He cut his eyes at me, saying something under his breath before turning into a drive-thru of some Mexican restaurant. "Kimi, you're avoiding me."

"I told you…"

"A bunch of bullshit." He finished. He inched up closer to the window, slamming back into his seat before putting his car in neutral. "I knew this would happen."

"What?"

"You have feelings for me."

I coughed loudly, almost unsure if I could catch my breath. I steadied my breathing. "E-excuse me?"

"You have feelings for me." He repeated, sighing. "I knew we should not have done it."

I felt my face grow red in anger, my fists clinching together into tiny fists ready to pound away at his big head. I was in no way, falling for Tommy Pickles! It was just sex…awkward sex at best. I give credit when credit is due and yes, Tommy Pickles lives up to his infamous reputation; but it was not the same as if I were another one of his random hookups. I was one of his best-friend, which happens to make me technically family since he slept with the sister of his best-friend he considers a second brother, my brother-Chuckie Finster. If Chuckie found out I slept with Tommy, a repeat of 6th grade's Halloween fiasco would most certainly repeat itself and I was in no mood to break up a lifelong friendship.

"First off, I am not in love with you. Get over yourself!"

"Who said love?" he quipped, grinning. He pulled up further to the drive-thru window.

"You did!"

He shook his head, chuckling. "No, I said you have feelings for me. You re the one the brought up love."

I burned with rage, resisting the urge to wipe that smug grin off his perfectly shaped face. God how that man infuriated me. I sucked in a breath, slamming back against my seat in frustration. "Whatever! Just know I have no feelings for you, at...all." I felt the need to stress the last few words to make my point crystal.

Tommy kept grinning, turning his back once he reached the intercom system of the drive-thru. He ordered one of those cinnamon rice milk drinks and a steak quesadilla with chips and salsa. I ignored him the rest of the way up to the window. I felt his gaze intensify against me; those pearly white teeth of his flashing effortlessly as those kissable lips formed a small smile. I watched as he slowly unbuckled his seat belt, leaning over to play with the small gold stud in my ear.

"Someone is upset."

"Shut up, Tommy."

"Then tell me why you have been avoiding me, Kimi."

"Maybe I feel a little bit embarrassed, alright?" I finally admitted. I was getting tired of holding it in and his interrogation was only making me even more pissed off at myself. I purposely avoided replying to Tommy's messages, declining his invites to hang out, and forwarded his phone calls because I was just not ready to come to terms that I had sex with one of my best friends. If it was Phil, we would have vowed to never speak about it again; blaming it on the alcohol or anything else for that matter. It was just my luck that it had to be Tommy, the only man aside from Adam that I actually ever thought I could love.

I did not know if I loved Tommy at one point. He and I always hinted towards our feelings for each other but never acted on anything out of fear of Chuckie fighting Tommy and/or ruining our friendship. I rather we would have tried dating than us having sex. I was a virgin, making it even more difficult. I was not the typical virgin that was clingy, overprotective, and downright stalker category worthy. No, I was that virgin that waited for the right man and the right time. Did I think it was Tommy Pickles, I am still not so sure; but if it would have been anyone, I was glad it was him. I just did not know my feelings on the situation. I was more so stuck on the fact that he saw me naked; touched and kissed me places no man has ever seen before. How am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I possibly opened Pandora's box?

"What do you mean?"

I grew still for a moment, closing my eyes to take in a deep breath. "Tommy, I was a virgin. You are a renowned player. Aside from the obvious, we are best friends and my brother is more like a brother to you as well. This could only get messy."

He drew in a small breath, kissing my cheek. "Kimi, if you are afraid of Chuckie finding out, he won't. Besides, he used to date my cousin! Lord only knows what those two did."

I watched him cringe at the very thought. I smiled. "Even so, you seen me the way no one has ever seen me before. It just felt awkward seeing you so soon."

"Kimi..." He was cut short with the loud honk of the car behind him. It was his turn to drive up towards the window. He paused to remove his wallet and retrieve a solid twenty dollar bill before giving it to an acne-ridden sixteen year old with large, red oval glasses. The boy tried to be somewhat flirtatious with me, offering me free guacamole and chips in exchange for my number but Tommy grew defensive and brushed him off quite rudely after getting his food. I laughed.

"Someone is jealous."

"No, I'm not." he spat, guiding into a parking space in the lot. He handed me the greasy bag. "Here."

"What's this for?"

"For you. I know how much you like steak quesadillas so I got you one."

I rolled my eyes, smiling as I opened the bag to take a small bite. "Thank you."

He sipped his drink. "But just to let you know, I never want to hurt you Kimi. That's why I don't want you to catch feelings for me." He grew eerily quiet. "I'm no good."

"Tommy, I don't have feelings for you. It was just sex, great sex actually, but sex nonetheless. I just don't know what to feel right now. I'm so mixed emotional."

I watched Tommy put his drink in the cup holder, leaning back his seat. "It was great sex, huh?"

I playfully slapped his chest, throwing a chip his way. He caught my wrist, pulling me closer to his athletic frame before planting a small kiss upon my lips. I instantly grew drunk off his expertly skilled tongue, craving more. My body reacted in an unfamiliar familiar way; similar to the night he and I made love for the first time. My mind went blank, my heart racing, my pulse increasing. I did the first thing I could think of.

"Tommy, stop. What are you doing?"

"Kissing you." He said matter-of-factly, pressing his lips against mine before placing his hands within my thick hair. I let out a low moan, he pulling away. "That okay?"

"I just tell you I am a ball of mixed emotions and you kiss me?"

He blinked. "Kimi, you're thinking too much into this. You and I both know this is strictly a friendship and what we did that night, was something special but like you said, it was just sex...great sex."

"But, Tommy..."

"Relax, Kimi." His voice grew lower, his lips pressed against my neck this time. "I won't hurt you...I promise."

"But..."

"Just stop thinking about it." he finally pulled away, looking me into my eyes with genuine sincerity. "I miss hanging out with you, talking to you, being around you. You are more than a friend to me, Kimi and I want you to know that."

I wanted to ask him what did he exactly mean by me being more than a friend, but decided against it. Maybe Tommy was right. Maybe I was thinking way into this and I was overreacting. Tommy and I are both adults and it was consensual. We may have crossed over the boundaries of a normal friendship but we could choose to come back at any time, right? I mean, we both know that we have no feelings towards each other and the sex was just sex...great sex actually. Is there anything wrong with that? A girl has needs to and who am I to deny myself, right?

I turned off all my thoughts and acted on sudden impulse, kissing Tommy before straddling over the gearshift into his lap. A small twinkle sparked within his eyes before he returned the favor. "Your food will get cold if you keep this up."

"But I don't like eating and you aren't going to eat anything with me. You aren't even hungry."

"Who said that?"

"You didn't order anything for yourself except that drink."

"But who said I wasn't hungry."

I laughed. "I don't share steak quesadillas. No, sir. I have to strong of an addiction to even break you off a corner."

He chuckled a low, sensuous rumble before nipping at my ear lobe. I felt his hands gently slide alongside the sheer material of my nude stockings before resting at the heart of my womanly charm. I let out a low gasp of air before being engulfed by yet another deep, passionate kiss. This time, it was me who was flipped over and devoured. Tommy had let his seat back as far as it would go before gently placing himself atop of me. His hands danced against my rib cage, his lips caressing my delicate skin as his fingers worked their magic on the lace of my leotard. I felt his lustful words ricochet against a tsunami wave of emotions; my cheeks flushed as he explored my body against my will.

He never said he wanted me to share my quesadilla...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter theme song: 'Get Lucky' by: Daft Punk**

**Tommy**

"Come back here, young man!"

"Kiss off!"

My mother's sobs echoed throughout our living room. Dil stood motionless in the kitchen playing some card game with a few of his nerd friends while my father tried to find the right words to say. I came home late, again, for the third time this week and my folks were pretty unhappy about it. My curfew was extended until one in the morning since they wanted to give me some space and allow me to grow into adulthood without being 'stifled'.

Of course it was some Dr. Lipschitz crap they were spewing like mindless zombies, but I did not mind initially. At first, one worked just fine for me; until I joined my fraternity and started spending a lot more time with them. Since all of them, except me and another new pledge, was all of legal age, being in arcades and seeing late movies was no longer an option. We would hit up strip clubs, bars, dance clubs, and loft parties on the daily basis. I was no longer surrounded by teenage girls that vied for attention; but beautiful women that threw themselves at me because they wanted to. I would leave every event with my liver shot, sexual appetite satiated, and higher than a man in space.

Eventually, my folks began to notice my shift in behavior and grew concerned. They reduced my curfew to ten as if I were still back in high-school, and began calling me much more frequently. I would still forward their calls, but occasionally I would answer on a drunken rampage while getting topped off by some erotic dancer- much like last night actually. My father was so irate on the phone that he literally stayed awake until I got home. This time, it was closer to noon.

"Tommy Pickles, get your ass back in this kitchen!"

I shrugged, popping some gum and a pain killer. I had a severe hangover and I was in no mood for conversation. "I'm going to bed."

"You waltz into my house at twelve in the afternoon and tell me, your father, you are going to bed?" his voice rose, the tips of his ears growing crimson. "Have you lost your goddamn mind?"

Maybe. I was starting to think it was a Pickles family heirloom. First Angelica, now me. I was just waiting until the day Dil goes off the deep end. "Dad, I'm tired."

"Too damn bad, Tommy. You were out doing only God knows what and when I call to see if you are alright, you answer drunk as a skunk with some women performing oral sex on you!"

"Whoa, really?" Dil chimed in, grinning. He and his friends had stopped playing their silly card game a while ago; my argument with our father proving to be much more entertaining than watching some fairy nymph take life points away from an elf guardian. My father shot him a deathly glare, piercing his lips to refrain from saying anything he would regret later. Dil gave me thumbs up, high-fiving his friends. "Way to go, T."

"Dil, stay out of this!" my father roared, rushing to the kitchen table in fury before gathering up all of his cards to sweep them into his lap. "Matter of fact, how about you take this into your room and let me and your brother have a long discussion."

Dil shrugged, brushing past me to lead his friends upstairs. I took my free minute to grab some orange juice out of fridge, drinking it right out of the carton. "Dad, can we talk later? My head really hurts."

"Oh, I'm sorry Tommy. Do you want me to hold you and tell you everything will be alright throughout the course of your hangover?" his sarcasm dripped like arsenic. "Welcome to adulthood, Tommy. Now sit down!"

I decided against replying with my own little dry spell of humor and took a seat across my father at the kitchen table. The faster I get this "talk" out of the way, the quicker I could go to sleep. "What do you want to discuss, Dad?"

He remained quiet for a few minutes, resting his chin atop his folded hands with his eyes closed. He took in a few shallow breaths before exhaling out deeply, finally looking at me. He resembled a man that had just admitted defeat. I felt my heart sink in my chest at the crestfallen glimmer in my father's eyes. Contrary to my recent actions, the last person I wanted to hurt was my father. He and I have always been the closest, Dil being closer to my mother, as I grew older. I knew he was genuinely concerned about me, but what was I supposed to say when he asked me why I do the things I do. Hell, I don't even know half the time. I'm just so angry that the only thing that gives me any sort of release is sex.

I was in no way a sex addict like my cousin, let alone an alcoholic. But I was someone that enjoyed relishing in the forbidden jewels of countless women like a bandit thief in the night. It gave me an adrenaline rush that I could not get anywhere else- I've tried. I have been so hurt and betrayed by my mother that for years my anger had no way to release itself until recently. I figured me toying with the hearts and minds of young women were my just desserts for what my mother had done to my father. He still has no clue about her affair and to this day, it boils over for me to want to tell him.

But I refrain. It's not my place.

"Tommy…" he finally spoke, voice lowered into a calm whisper. "Talk to me; I'm your father. You can tell me anything."

"What do you want to know, Dad?"

"What's going on with you? You have never been this defiant before."

"I'm just an adult now and like to do adult things."

"I understand that, Tommy, but you just turned twenty. I know you are out there having sex and going to wild parties but this staying out late, breaking curfew, getting intoxicated mess has to stop."

I remained quiet for a short while, thinking. "Dad, I'm not trying to hurt you, you know."

"I know, son." He placed a gentle hand atop of mine. I did not realize I began fiddling with a spare straw left on the table from when Dil had brought in Happy Burger for lunch. "But you are seriously hurting your mother; she feels she has failed you as a parent."

"Maybe I don't care how she feels." I mumbled lowly, but clearly not low enough for him to not hear. That forgotten anger had returned.

"Tommy Pickles, she is your mother!"

"What does that have to do with me?"

"You will not disrespect her!"

"Why are you even defending her!" I barked, bolting out of my seat only to grab the wooden table chair and fling it against the wall. I watched it break into pieces as my father's eyes widened in terror, taking several steps away from me. Dil and his friends had rushed down the stairway to see what the commotion was all about. My mother began screaming again. I paused to look down at the broken chair, feeling an immediate rush of guilt flood through me. I don't know what came over me but it was certainly not good. I broke a chair…

"I'm sorry…" I stammered. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Get out, Tommy." My father spoke shakily, rushing to the aid of his wife.

I looked at him for a moment, eyes suddenly pleading for him to just glance at me right back. I curled my hands into small fists, fighting my ebbing anger. "Dad, I'm sorry. I will replace it."

"Get out!" he spoke again, this time with more authority. I watched Dil try to say something in my defense but my father hushed him with a stinging punch. He then looked at me again. "I will not repeat myself, Tommy. Get out of my house, NOW!"

I gritted my teeth, punching a nearby wall only to leave a small indentation. At that point, the pulsating pain that coursed throughout my hand did not matter and I did not feel a thing. I knew I would feel it later but I was too heated to give a damn. Grabbing my wallet and car keys, I snatched off my parent's house key; throwing it at them before yelling out for them to fuck off and slamming the back door. I did not know where I would go, my frat house being an option since I already had a good amount of clothing in my bedroom but I was in no mood for another party. My fraternity was known to be 24/7 party monsters and certainly did not fail in living up to their reputation. Even though we had a kick-ass time last night at the club, I knew that even at one in the afternoon they were breaking out another keg.

I rubbed my temples, sitting in my driver seat before turning on the radio and exiting the driveway. I could go to my Aunt Charlotte's but she would probably be passed out on the dining room floor in a drunken haze. Then it hit me, Kimi would have the house to herself. Kira and Chaz were out of town for the weekend and with Chuckie in Ohio seeing Angelica, it left Kimi all alone in her big house. I took one last glance at house I used to call home, watching my father console my mother through our living room window before speeding away.

I tried calling Kimi on her cell phone on the way to her house, but she did not answer. I forgot the possibility that she would be at dance practice but it was Sunday and last I knew, she only went to practice five days a week, sometimes six, but never on Sundays. I gave another try on my cell, praying she would answer as I approached her house from down the block. I was not expecting her to be standing outside, waiting on me. She was in her infamous grey sweatpants, an old grey t-shirt, with her hair in a high messy bun. She looked stunning just being herself with no makeup on. I preferred her without it honestly.

I pulled into her driveway and parked my car. She remained still, looking at me as I approached her. I'm guessing my parents already tried calling everyone to see where I would be headed. Kimi remained stoic, only moving to embrace me in a small hug before grabbing my hand and leading me into the house. She locked the door, taking my hand again to guide me to her bedroom. I removed my leather jacket, shedding it to fall to her plush, purple carpet before capturing her lips in a single kiss. She began to untie her sweatpants, curling them into a small pool of fabric at her thin ankles before kicking them off into a nearby corner. I gripped her hair, pulling lightly before pushing her back onto her bed.

My phone went off. I glanced at the flashing screen to see it was my father. I picked it up and turned it off, tossing it somewhere to find later. Kimi shifted towards the edge of the bed, removing her t-shirt to expose a lace pink bra. Her beautiful hands reached for my belt loop, removing the leather strap to unbutton my jeans as I rid myself of my red t-shirt. I placed my hands into her curly bed of hair, massaging her gently before violently tilting her head towards mine to entrap her in another kiss. Kimi moaned into me, finally managing to get my jeans off; leaving me to kick the under her canopy bed.

"You alright?" she murmured. I nodded, not saying much of anything. She blinked. "You can be as rough as you want with me, okay?"

"Kimi…."

She pushed me back slightly to stand, kissing me gently as she turned to push me against the queen-sized bed. I landed on her pure white comforter and a few stuffed animals before resting my head on her colorful array of pillows. She straddled me only to bounce lightly against my manhood, my hands finding home to the smooth contours of her waist before my favorite tattoo on her lower back. "I mean it."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Another sweet kiss, my hand clamping against the back of her beck forcefully. She let out an audible gasp, a moan when my lips pressed against her fragile neck. I ripped the thin barrier between her legs, forcing down that pretty pink lace bra against her chest. One of the metal prongs scraped against her back, drawing a single trail of blood. That bun was irritating me.

Her head disappeared into my lap as my grip tightened against her ponytail.

_We come too far to give up who we are_

**A/N: So, I forgot to mention I am also in gradate school and school starts for me in a week so…I will be a lazy bean and not be updating since I have edits for my book and thesis papers. So I am trying to update ALL my stories this week so I shall start updating my other stories and let this one marinate. -_- Ugh, anyway, thank you guys for your support! And welcome to the league of twisted fantasies shannoneli! And as always, thank you to my friend, Jose. He has been here with me since FOREVER! Love him and my latest new kitten, Boris to pieces. **

**Fair Warning: Future chapters will be a lot more…how do I put this…intense. You've been warned.**

**Anyway, thank you for enjoying my dark twisted fantasies! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter theme song: 'Haunted' by: Skylar Grey**

**Kimi**

I fell back against my queen-sized bed, tired and exhausted from an all day dance practice session for the upcoming recital for Madam Rogue's colleagues and their dance companies. I received the email late last night after an eventful evening with Tommy and his family only to have to wake up at dawn to be at the dance studio by seven. Sophie was kind enough to arrive a bit earlier than scheduled to bring the dancers bagels and coffee due to the lack of advance notice on such a rigorous agenda scheduled for the day, but as kind as her gesture was it was not enough to keep us feeling the scathing heat of Madam Rogue's harsh criticism. Our lack of sleep, poor performance, and out of sync rhythmic motions boiled her blood into a frenzy where I could have sworn that woman had steam coming out of her ears from yelling at our inadequate performance all morning long.

What did she expect from a group of semi-professional dancers with less than an eight hour notice in the sudden change in events?

I removed my gym shoes and sweat socks, massaging my aching and bleeding feet tenderly. I let out a heavy sigh, feeling the only amount of relief I was gifted all day. Using the last bit of my possible strength, I scurried to the bathroom; turning on the bathtub faucets to begin my hot bath with Epsom salt and lavender bath crystals. I needed to relax my body; putting it through so much excruciating pain on the daily basis all in the name of success and fame was beginning to take a toll on not only my poor French pedicures but my entire being altogether. My arms would be wobblier than jelly on a rollercoaster as my legs would give out after only making it up a single flight of stairs. My migraines grew a bit worse as my immune system had began crashing after being pronounced severely dehydrated and malnourished of electrolytes from the nonstop dance routines Madam Rouge had drilled into my head hourly.

I knew what I was doing to myself was very unhealthy but I had to not only prove to Madam Rouge or my family that I could be a world-renowned dancer, but to myself as well. My mother was still disappointed in my career choice and had constantly reminded me of her disapproval; always following up with how I should be more like Chuckie and go into medicine or engineering. What she failed to realize was that being a world class, cancer curing hero was Chuckie's life goal… not mine.

II threw my t-shirt in my open dirty clothing bin, removing my sweat pants and undergarments next. I let down my high ponytail and allowed my sticky, damp tendrils to cling to my bruised skin. I glanced at myself in the mirror, quickly turning away in shame as I placed myself in the scalding hot water. I bit down on my washcloth to simmer my muffles of agony, waiting for my body to become adjusted to the heat of the water. I had to keep reminding myself that I had been through worse.

I kept replaying last night in my head; somewhat thankful that dance class preoccupied me all day so that I could think of nothing else but straightening my calves and perfecting the perfect pirouette. But finally having a moment to myself, to let my body and mind run as freely as the dirt that clung to my sweaty body wash away with the lather of the soap, I could not help but replay the distant memory of Tommy Pickles hitting me. Last night he had called me to talk about a few things, me thinking nothing of it until the sound of urgency resonated through his voice. I had told him I could not invite him over because my folks wanted the evening to themselves and for Chuckie and I to find somewhere to be until around midnight; him inviting me over for a late dinner and some much needed company.

He had little gas in his car and due to the supermarket cutting back his hours, his paychecks were dismal at best. I told him I was fine riding my bike a few blocks away towards his house and to save gas and energy. He resisted a bit, saying I made him feel like a terrible person for letting me- a young woman- venture out at night to see him- a man that should have gone to my home to pick me up and deliver me safely. But I countered his sexist argument by deconstructing his theory with one, we were in the suburbs, two, he lived five minutes away, and three, I was a big tough girl and can tie my own sandals and everything. As much as I appreciated Tommy wanting to be a gentleman and lookout for me as if I were as fragile as a daffodil, I did not need him to watch over me every second and every moment of my life. He was starting to associate us having sex for him controlling me and it was starting to get annoying.

I arrived at his house, surprised that it was eerily quiet. Normally, there would be the sounds of Dil playing his video game with her nerd friends in the living room, Stu using his obnoxiously loud power tools in the basement to build another invention, or DiDi doing her power yoga with the women from her book club in the kitchen near the air conditioning. I entered the house and it was strangely quiet, only the soft, sweeping sounds of the ceiling fan in the living room and Tommy's footsteps as he descended the stairs. I had tried to ask him where everyone was but he silenced me with a forceful kiss; gripping my hand to drag me up the stairs and into his bedroom.

I didn't fight it, giving into the lustful urges of Tommy Pickle's mouth and skillful hands that roamed my womanly curves. I moaned his name, he savoring each syllable like his own personal drug as he removed my denim jacket. I ran my fingers through his hair, gripping his scalp as his mouth attacked the soft spot on my neck that he knew drove me insane. I drew a small trail of blood from behind his ear but he didn't seem to mind. Instead, he lifted me up and carried me the rest of the way to his bed; throwing me down like a sack of flour before grasping my legs roughly to pull me towards the edge of his comforter. I let out a loud squeak, unaccustomed to the rough side of Tommy's sexual appetite.

I tried asking him what the rush was, but he remained mute; damn near ripping off our clothes with lightening speed as his mouth greedily attacked mine. At first, it was somewhat of a turn on to see Tommy behaving like a ravaging canine in search of his next meal, but then as his pulling became harder, his grips tightening, while those sweet, sensual kisses mashed into slams in the face, I lost all interest in the 'rough housing' Tommy and wanted the soft, attentive Tommy Pickles I had grown accustomed to. Don't get me wrong, every woman wants a little hair grabbing from time to time, but Tommy seemed not like himself; an outer body experience that seemed to use me as an outlet for his personal and sexual frustrations.

The moment Tommy bit me, and I mean bit me like he was biting into a Granny Smith apple on a summer afternoon, was when I had to say something. I yelped out in pain, pushing Tommy away from me with force I did not know I had before I scooted back towards his headboard. I pulled his sheets over me to shield my nudity from his prying eyes, keeping my gaze locked in on his own. I tried scolding him, but Tommy started yelling and cussing at me as if I were the one that bit down on him. He claimed I kicked him in the face and although I knew I did no such thing, I apologized anyway all while trying to tell my side of this painful story. However, Tommy was not hearing and instead decided to rip the sheets from off of me only to bring me back down towards the edge of his bed.

This time, I was getting angry and was no longer in the mood for any hanky panky. Tommy had seriously begun to get under my skin with his roughness and aggressive attitude and it was unbecoming. I began pushing him off from atop of me, closing my legs before he could even get the condom on. I told him I didn't want to do it anymore and that seemed to only anger him more. When Tommy would not let up, I did the only thing I could think of at the moment and ended up punching in square in the face. He fell onto the floor on the left side of his bed with a loud thump; me gasping in terror as I hurried to see if he was alright. As upset as I was in his sudden shift in behavior, the last thing I wanted to do was intentionally hurt Tommy.

Before I could open my mouth to apologize, I felt the stinging slap of Tommy's back hand hit my right cheek. I fell backwards onto his wooden floorboards, hearing them creak as he topped me again. There was another slap, this time on my left cheek as Tommy gripped a fistful of my hair and dragged me back onto his bed. I wanted to scream, cry out for help, hell, say anything; but my voice was caught my throat, my heart beating against my chest as I tried to understand what was happening. All I could register in my mind was to cover my face as blow after blow hit me with full speed and brunt force. I felt myself wanting to cry but tears would not come out; my heart slowly shattering into a million pieces as I attempted to force myself into a happier place like the time I was high on pain medicine.

None of it worked and I was forced to endure the rape and brutality of the last person I had ever expected to hurt me: Tommy Pickles.

I remember removing my sore limbs from Tommy's bed later that night, quietly gathering my tattered clothing to quickly race down the stairs and run home. I did not risk opening the garage door to get my bicycle in fear of waking the sleeping demon one floor above me. I decided to muster all the strength I had in me and run home as fast as my legs would carry me. I felt the hot stinging sensation of those forgotten tears stream down my face as my hair flapped in the wind uncontrollably. It started raining.

After that, I immediately crashed face first in my bed and cried myself to sleep in the fetal position. I had awoken early that morning for the unscheduled early dance practice to a slew of Tommy's text messages and voicemails. He was calling to apologize and wanted to talk. He seemed pretty shaken up on several of his voicemails but I was not ready to listen to them as of yet. Instead, I blocked out all memory of last night the best way I knew how and that was through intense dance.

Scrubbing my legs and chest with my wash cloth and bar of scented soap, I allowed myself to feel clean for the first time all day. Because I was low on time this morning, I only had time for a quick refresher where I cleaned my most feminine of areas before I had to take the bus downtown to the studio. I felt dirty and sticky all day and not from the dancing. Sweat and dirt did not bother me; it was the feeling of Tommy that lingered on my skin that made me cringe in disgust. I could still feel the saliva from his sloppy kisses trail my neck and skin as the fire from his fingertips burned my loins. I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles all day; anxiously waiting for the moment I could douse myself in boiling water to cleanse myself of impurities.

I lowered myself into my bath, submerging myself completely under a sea of white foam. I closed my eyes, trying to go back to a familiar time in my life where I felt most serene. I could not think of one without Tommy's face implanted in the background with that million dollar smile I had grown to love.

Those tears came flooding back again but I was strong enough to keep them locked up from sometime until they brimmed over with untamed emotion. At least no one could tell them apart from the single streaks of water that masked my face as I resurfaced; eyes bloodshot red as I coughed uncontrollably. I heard my cell phone go off again, knowing without a doubt it was Tommy calling for the umpteenth time today to apologize. I had still not returned any of his calls…

I finally broke down, screaming as I scrubbed myself harder until the skin turned an opaque white; traces of blood and irritation becoming present. I pulled my hair, muffling more of my screams with my wash cloth; kicking the water uncontrollably until I ran out of energy to do nothing more than cry.

_Where's the floating bridge?_

**A/N: I know this is late but my internet has been acting OC lately. -_- Anyhoo, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, although there is nothing enjoyable about abuse. I did warn that this would be a little more intense than my other works but I assure you I will not try to scare anyone…too much. Thanks for your love and support kittens and as always, for enjoying my twisted, dark fantasies. -SP**


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